Tracer
by fhestia
Summary: If you need me, I will find you..." Two troubled lives converge when a Healer from St. Mungo's is reassigned to Hogwarts. Haunted by a tragic past, Maura learns to trust again and discovers what she thought she wanted isn't what she needs.
1. Chapter 1

Maura Riley stood in front of the ornately carved door at the end of the dimly-lit corridor on the fifth floor of St. Mungo's. She felt immobile, her arms nearly pinned in place, unable to begin the simple movement of knocking on the door as she read the nameplate in front of her eyes: Helaine McKeeven, Healer-in-Chief. Maura had never before had reason to enter the Healer-in-Chief's private office, preferring to keep her interaction with the dour woman to a minimum, but there was no ignoring the terse summons she had been given this morning almost immediately upon her arrival. The pace of her day had been frantic, with several admissions including a critical case from Hogwarts, and Maura had not had time to worry about what might have prompted the request for a meeting until this very moment.

Maura took a deep breath to gather her courage, but as she raised her hand to knock, the door was thrown open and she took a quick step backwards, an involuntary whimper of fear escaping her. She felt strong hands grab her arms to steady her and she looked up to see Christien McKeeven, Helaine's son.

"Mum's in a right temper today," he said conspiratorially.

Maura felt her stomach constrict at his words, but managed an unconcerned smile. "When isn't she?"

Christien looked down at her and even though he wasn't unusually tall for a wizard, Maura still felt diminished by their difference in height.

"Urgh, Maura," he said suddenly, startling her from her preoccupied thoughts. "What's that awful smell?"

"Oh, no," Maura said, giving herself a cursory once-over and noticing a stain on her robes that her earlier, hastily-applied cleansing charm had missed. "It was the Appley brothers," she explained, gathering the folds of fabric between her hands and scrubbing futilely at the blotch. "They found their grandmother's wand this morning - managed to put vomiting hexes on each other before she could stop them."

"Never a dull moment in the paediatric ward, is there?" he said.

Maura shrugged, smiling wryly, and felt a section of her hair dislodge itself from the loose coil she always wore. She lifted the wavy, golden-brown length from her shoulder and as she tucked it back into place, she caught a whiff of something foul. Maura sighed. Those little terrors had splattered her head to toe before she could manage to remove the hex and she hadn't the time to repair the damage now.

"You don't want to go in there reeking of vomit, " Christien said. "Turn around."

Maura turned in place and he withdrew the comb from the bunch of hair at the nape of her neck. She trembled slightly as Christien gently carded his fingers through the long strands.

"It's hard to reach every spot when you have that much hair," he said.

She closed her eyes, enjoying both the warm sensation of his cleansing charm and the simple physical nearness of him. It had been too long since they had stood together like this...as equals, as fellow Healers; not Maura as damaged victim and Christien as her rescuer.

When he had finished, she twisted her hair back up into the loose knot she customarily wore and turned to face him.

"Thanks."

"Maura," he said, his normally placid voice quivering slightly. "Will you meet me when you're finished in there?"

She searched Christien's face; the face that was nearly as familiar to her as her own, all sharp angles and long nose and crystalline grey eyes. She recognized the look he was giving her now, an expression of mingled false nonchalance and concern, and her apprehension increased suddenly. She swallowed against a knot in her throat.

"What's going on, Chris?"

"Just..." He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I'll wait for you, okay? We can talk then." He brushed past her and Maura turned to watch him make his way down the corridor towards the staff room, walking so quickly that his robes were nearly a green blur.

_Just get it over with_, she thought, raising a shaking hand to knock on the door.

"Enter," said a precise and clipped voice.

Maura couldn't quite bring herself to walk directly into the room. She opened the door a crack to see Healer-in-Chief McKeeven standing ramrod straight behind her desk, arms crossed tightly across her chest, her expression severe. She was wearing the burgundy robes that reflected her position. Her white, close-cropped hair and steely grey eyes gave her an air of absolute power and authority. Christien had inherited his mother's eyes, but Helaine's eyes held none of her son's warmth.

"You wanted to see me?" Maura said, stumbling slightly at the threshold to the room.

"Yes, Maura, sit down," Helaine said, indicating a chair in front of her desk with an impatient wave of her hand.

The carpeting was so thick in the office that the sound of Maura's footfalls was swallowed up as she approached the desk. She sank into the chair, but was forced to sit straight backed; it was hard wood, without any comfortable contours, plainly intended for sitting at attention, not leisure.

Helaine regarded her without a word, towering over her, making Maura feel more decreased in stature than ever. She finally settled herself behind her desk, steepled her fingers and peered closely at Maura, who resisted the urge to squirm in her seat like a guilty schoolgirl.

Maura hated making direct eye contact, especially when she felt vulnerable,as she did now, sitting with her back to the door. She searched the austere room for anything to rest her eyes on, anything that would hint at the humanity beneath Helaine's cool facade. There were no mementos on the bookshelves, only neatly arranged volumes. No photos sat on the desk, just a container of quills and a tightly rolled scroll in the exact center of the desktop. Maura focused her attention there, certain that her life was about to change and the scroll held all the secrets.

Helaine unfurled the parchment slowly and read in silence for a few moments that seemed like hours to Maura. She fixed Maura with an unwavering stare.

"Katie Bell, a Hogwarts student, was brought to St. Mungo's yesterday following initial stabilization at the school infirmary. You're familiar with the particulars of her case?"

Maura frowned, uncertain what direction the conversation was taking. "In general, yes. I saw her briefly and reviewed her chart when she arrived but she was transferred from my ward within the hour."

She omitted the part where she had sobbed in the corridor afterwards. The memory of her own attack was still so close to the surface, even seven years later, and she never knew what would trigger a flashback. Fortunately, no one had been around to witness her shameful lack of professional reserve.

"Yesterday I had an owl from Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts...your old school, isn't it, Maura?"

Maura nodded again, still unable to meet Helaine's eyes. She studied her hands instead with their ragged fingernails, quivering with a fine tremor. She clenched them together tightly.

"He has requested a Healer be assigned to Hogwarts for the remainder of term, both to assist the matron and to be on site should any other incidents take place."

"They're expecting another attack?"

"I'm sure it's only a precautionary measure. Now, if I may continue," Helaine said pointedly, clearing her throat. "The Governing Council met this morning to choose the most appropriate candidate for this temporary position..."

Maura refused to listen to the rest of Helaine's announcement, her mind beginning to feverishly bargain with the fates.

_Please, please, let it be Christien. He's going to Hogwarts and I'll assume the Bell girl's care in his absence. That's why he wants to talk to me. That's why he was here. It's the only explanation that isn't completely humiliating._

"...of course, you'll still be on staff here. You will continue to attend monthly briefings and you may be summoned via tracer for emergencies."

Maura reached for the parchment Helaine was now holding out to her, willing her hands to stop shaking.

"All the information you'll need is there," Helaine continued. "Staff members, student enrollment, infirmary procedures..."

Maura scanned the staff list at the top of the scroll. So many familiar names there. So many of her former professors still on staff, their faces coming to her mind as she read: Minerva McGonagall, all compressed lips and foreboding manner when Maura failed yet again to transfigure the simplest object; Horace Slughorn, still Potions Master.

She stopped abruptly at the name of the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor: Severus Snape. The name was vaguely familiar to Maura and she whispered it, trying to force the memory forward. Something in the sibilance of the syllables caused her to feel a sudden giddy rush of excitement and an almost simultaneous jolt of pure fear. Dazed, she looked up to find Helaine staring quizzically at her.

"You've gone completely white," Helaine said, a spasm of impatience crossing her face before the familiar hard expression returned. "I had no idea you would take the news this badly."

Maura asked the first question that came to her mind. "This decision is final?"

"It is, Maura. Healer Rhodes will be assuming charge of the pediatric ward in your absence."

"How long do I have left?"

Helaine laughed mirthlessly. "Really, Maura. You make this assignment sound nearly as inviting as a lifetime sentence at Azkaban. It's a tremendous opportunity. You'll be on staff with some of the most renowned witches and wizards in Britain and you'll be working side by side with Poppy Pomfrey, as competent a matron as I've ever known..."

Poppy Pomfrey. Another familiar name. She had been matron during Maura's own school years and matron when Maura had been so ill in her second year. It was largely due to her influence that Maura had even pursued a career as a Healer; now she was returning as her colleague.

"How long?" Maura asked again.

Helaine sighed. "They are expecting you Friday this week. Of course, the necessary paperwork will have to be filed with the Ministry and we will need to brief your replacement in the paediatric ward..."

Helaine's voice continued rattling off procedures and policies but all Maura could hear was her own frantic thoughts. Four days. That was all the time she had to tie up loose ends at St. Mungo's before being shunted back to her old school.

Maura was only vaguely aware of Helaine wishing her good luck and coming around the desk to shake her hand crisply. She rose from the chair, her legs trembling from the force of emotions buffeting her. Ever since she had returned to work, her superiors hadn't quite known what to do with her, but never did Maura expect to be demoted and sent away. She was a fully-qualified Healer. She didn't belong at a school infirmary, especially not at her former school.

* * *

Maura walked blindly down the corridor, trailing one hand against the dark-paneled wood. Her head was swimming and she was concentrating on placing one foot in front of the other, hoping to make it to the staff room before her legs gave out. She wanted to see Christien. Christien could straighten this out.

He was sitting at a small table in the staff room, holding a cup of tea but not drinking it, when Maura reached the doorway. He jumped up quickly when he saw her and took her arm, guiding her to the chair across from his.

Maura propped her elbows on the table and covered her face with her hands.

"I'm being sent to Hogwarts," she said, waiting for Christien's response of disbelief and outrage.

"I know," he said quietly. He reached across the table, gently pulled her hands away and grasped them in his own. "But you weren't happy here anymore, Maura. You know you weren't."

She sagged slightly in her seat. It was true. She hadn't been happy, not since her return, but leaving should have been her decision to make, not the Council's.

"It really will be a wonderful opportunity for you," Christien said, his voice taking on a note of forced enthusiasm. "A change of scenery is just what you've been needing."

"That's what you think?" Maura said, jerking her hands away and rising to her feet, anger giving her renewed energy. "Being chucked back to Hogwarts to administer Pepperup to a bunch of sniveling little brats is a 'wonderful opportunity?' I'll tell you what it is, Chris; it's a wonderful opportunity to get me out of the way for good, isn't it?"

"I had nothing to do with the Council's decision, Maura."

She stepped close to him, jabbing an accusatory finger at his chest. "How long did you know about this? Why didn't you warn me?"

Christien stood and grasped both her arms tightly. "You're getting hysterical, Maura. Calm down."

Maura wrenched away violently. She could feel heat rising in her face and her heart thudding wildly in her chest. "Don't take that condescending tone with me, you arrogant bastard," she said. "I'm not a child."

She saw him shift his gaze over her shoulder and give a nearly imperceptible shake of his head.

"Who are you looking at?" she demanded.

He looked back to her quickly. "Who...? Uh, no one, Maura."

Maura jerked her head around but saw only a brief swirl of robes disappearing around the corner. Everything began to click into place in her mind.

"You had nothing to do with the Council's decision, but Gwen is on the Council now, isn't she? Well, how cozy for you both. Didn't have the bollocks to end it yourself, did you? Oh, no, what would everyone think of you, ditching your mentally unstable girlfriend? But now," she said bitterly, "Now you can be shut of me and save face all at the same time. This must be the happiest day of your life."

Christien's face was sorrowful as he wordlessly pulled Maura towards him. She resisted at first, fighting an internal battle between wanting to melt into his embrace and wanting to hit him as hard as she could, but she finally relented. She rested her cheek against his shoulder, realizing with a pang that it would be the last time she would stand this close to him. She would never again feel protected in the circle of his arms. His strong capable hands, now resting on her back, would never again soothe away her nightmares.

"I'm sorry, Maura. I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"It wasn't my fault, Chris."

"No one thinks it was."

"Then why am I being punished?"

Her vision was swimming with unshed tears and the glint of silver on her ring finger caught her attention. Maura pulled away from his embrace and wrenched the ring off. She held it out to him. He did not take his eyes from her hands.

"I want you to keep it," he whispered.

"Why?" she asked bitterly. "As a souvenir? A little memento of everything I've lost?" She opened her hand and let the ring drop to the floor between them before turning and walking away from him.


	2. Chapter 2

"It must be disorienting to be back at your former school," Madam Pomfrey said as she and Maura made their way down the corridor past the main ward of the hospital wing.

"It is rather," Maura agreed. As a matter of fact, when she had entered the castle that morning her feet had automatically retraced a familiar path and she found herself halfway to the Hufflepuff common room before she remembered she was no longer a student but a staff member.

Maura gave the matron a sidelong glance as they reached the end of the corridor. Madam Pomfrey tapped her wand on the latch of the heavy wooden door to their left, her mouth set in a grim line. Either she didn't remember Maura or more likely, resented her very presence, because her manner seemed stiff and formal and not at all what Maura recalled from her time at Hogwarts.

Maura stepped into the small room as the door swung open, taking in the details of what would be her new home for the next nine months. On the opposite wall was a tall, narrow window, shutters open to allow the light to stream in. Her work desk, the only piece of furniture she had brought from St. Mungo's, had already been installed underneath and the honeyed wood glowed nearly golden in the early morning sunlight spilling through the panes. To her left was a fireplace with an armchair nearby. Turning her head, she saw a tiny kitchen area, a single bed tucked into an alcove on the far wall and a door which she assumed led to the lavatory. Her trunk had already been brought up and was sitting near a wardrobe to her right.

"I'm sorry if your quarters are a bit on the small side," Madam Pomfrey said, rubbing an imaginary smear from the door frame, clearly ill at ease.

"It's really very lovely," Maura assured her. At the matron's incredulous look, Maura wondered if she was thinking of the typical Healer's quarters at St. Mungo's; roomy, but each cheerless and sterile room identical to the others. Maura had always hated living there although it was both convenient and traditional for unmarried Healers to reside on the grounds of St. Mungo's. She blew out the breath she hadn't even realized she'd been holding and shrugged out of her traveling cloak. She had no idea what awaited her in the months to come, but in this cozy and homely room she was already beginning to feel more comfortable.

"I'm sure you'd like a chance to settle in before the staff meeting," Madam Pomfrey said, taking Maura's cloak and hanging it on a hook to the right of the doorway. "I'll be in my..." and with a single exasperated shake of her head, corrected herself. "..._our_ office if you need anything."

After the door clicked shut, Maura went immediately to her trunk and released the latch, the old hinges screeching as she lifted the lid. The first thing she wanted to do was change out of her ridiculous Healer's robes. If there was one bright spot in returning to Hogwarts it was the prospect of being free from the stifling regulations of St. Mungo's, at least temporarily, and the thought of shedding that lime-green abomination she was required to wear filled her with a sudden joy and lightness.

Maura stepped into her favorite set of dark blue work robes, feeling some of the residual tension from the morning beginning to ease as the soft, well-worn cotton settled around her. As she tugged her hair free from the collar, she toed off her St. Mungo's-issue flats. Although the weather was chilly and threatening to rain, she wanted to take a walk later if she had the chance, and those dainty little soft-soled shoes wouldn't hold up, not where she was planning to hike. She dug through the contents of her trunk until she found her boots; the ones with the sturdy treads that she always wore around the farm on her visits home. She pulled them on and laced them up tightly, feeling a bit more grounded with their familiar weight on her feet.

Humming to herself with satisfaction, Maura shook out her Healer's robes and heard a soft clink on the wood floor. She crouched to see what had fallen and her throat tightened with grief when she recognized her ring - the very one she had dropped at Christien's feet just days before. Somehow it had found its way back into her pocket. She closed her hand around it and straightened slowly, feeling the weight of unhappiness settle over her again as she was reminded of the reality of her situation.

She was stuck at Hogwarts until the end of term and her professional future beyond that was uncertain. Her last awkward conversation with Christien had left her with no hope that their relationship could be salvaged. She and Gwen hadn't spoken for months. She longed for someone to talk to, but she had no other friends she trusted and she refused to burden her parents with her troubles; they already fretted over her enough.

Suddenly her cozy little room seemed oppressive and stifling. Maura walked quickly to the window and cracked it open, then sat heavily in the small wooden chair at her desk. She gently slid open the large drawer by her left knee. She had wrapped her most precious items and tucked them away here and now she wanted her familiar things around her - her touchstones, her reminders of life when it hadn't been so complicated. She lifted her favorite cup from its protective wrapping: chipped along the rim and the handle had been repaired several times, but the bright yellow floral pattern brought her back instantly to her childhood home and the simple contentment of her days there. She placed the cup at eye level, turning it so it caught the sunlight.

She unwrapped her personal photos next, arranging the frames on the desktop and smiling back at the unmoving Muggle photographs of her parents and older sister. As she unwrapped the last photo, set in a simple, carved wooden frame, her smile faltered and faded. It had been taken eight years ago, on the day the three of them had completed their apprenticeships and qualified as Junior Healers. On one side was Gwen, poised and elegant, with narrow, almond-shaped eyes and aristocratic features, as tall and lithe as Maura was short and sturdy. On the other side was Maura with her rounded, child-like face, huge eyes and snub nose dotted with freckles, looking no older than the day she had left Hogwarts. In the middle was Christien and although he had an arm slung around both of their shoulders, he was beaming down at Maura, who looked both surprised and pleased at his attention.

On that day her future had seemed laid out before her like a straight, unwavering path, full of hope and promise: qualify as a Healer at Chris's side, marriage one day, children. How could that naive young girl have possibly known what was lying in wait for her? She replaced the frame in the drawer and positioned the ring on top before sliding the drawer shut emphatically.

It was no use sitting and feeling sorry for herself. She'd just have to make the best of it, that's all. She'd certainly had enough experience with that in her life. Her mother, in her unfailingly cheerful way, was always telling her to count her blessings and although it wasn't exactly what Maura considered a blessing, some time away from St. Mungo's might clarify matters. Maybe the Council would regret sending her away. Maybe Chris would realize how much he missed her.

* * *

Maura wasn't particularly looking forward to entering the staff room unaccompanied. Hostile feelings towards her or not, she wanted Madam Pomfrey there when she had to face her former professors, now her colleagues, for the first time. She peered into their office, hoping to see her but the small and tidy room was empty. As Maura moved past the doorway towards the ward, she heard voices carrying from the dispensary across the corridor and stopped to listen. It was a terrible habit, eavesdropping, but it certainly wasn't her fault if their conversation was so easily overheard from where she was standing.

"I do appreciate you bringing the Lobelia from the potions storeroom," she heard Madam Pomfrey say. "Professor Slughorn told me he was too indisposed to do it himself."

"The only thing that indisposes Horace is his exceptional corpulence," came the grumbling reply.

At this, Maura smothered a laugh. It didn't sound as though Horace Slughorn had changed a bit, which meant aside from his other less-than-stellar qualities, he must still be the same sweet man who had helped her through Potions all those years ago. She wondered idly who it was speaking to Madam Pomfrey; his voice was distinct - low-pitched and resonant - and she was certain she had heard it somewhere before.

"Will you be at the meeting this morning?" Although Madam Pomfrey was trying to keep her tone light, Maura could hear the tension underlying the words.

The resultant pause stretched out so long, Maura found herself holding her breath waiting for his answer.

"The Headmaster has requested I attend and I shall," came the reply at last. "But he is aware of my feelings on the matter...not that it made any difference whatsoever in his decision."

"You should give the girl a chance," Madam Pomfrey said sharply. "We both should," she added in a softer voice.

Maura felt her stomach constrict. So she hadn't been imagining it. Madam Pomfrey didn't want her here and if this professor's attitude was shared by the other staff members, neither did anyone else. Her sudden desire to walk out of the hospital wing and leave the castle altogether was nearly overwhelming, and it was only the knowledge that she had nowhere else to go which stopped her.

She stumbled into the office, shaken at what she had heard, and took a seat at the davenport clearly intended for her use. Its surface was bare, unlike Madam Pomfrey's desk which was nearly covered with delicate glass paperweights holding down the edges of numerous parchment scrolls, a vase of dried hydrangea and a selection of quills set in a lumpy and lopsided ceramic container that had obviously been lovingly crafted by a small child. As she sat, her mind working furiously, Maura ran her fingertips over the pits and scratches in the wood of her desk and rubbed her hand along the edge which was worn nearly smooth from years of use. She could hear continued conversation but was no longer interested in what either of them had to say.

After just a few minutes, she could no longer contain her nervous energy and stood quickly, upending the stool she had been perched on. She paced the edges of the room, stopping in front of the glass-fronted cabinet that dominated the small space, full of row upon row of neat parchment scrolls. Reflected in the glass panes, Maura saw Madam Pomfrey enter the office and stop short in the doorway.

"Oh, Healer Riley," she said in surprise. "I thought you'd still be in your room."

Maura shook her head once and to her chagrin, found herself on the verge of tears. She took a deep breath and tried to compose herself; it wouldn't do to start blubbering just when she wanted to appear competent and professional. After a few moments, when she was certain she had her emotions under control, Maura pressed her hands together to steady herself and turned to face the matron, who was watching her warily.

"Madam Pomfrey," she said, trying to keep her voice from quavering. "I want to make one thing clear to you: I neither requested nor desired this position. I am here only at Headmaster Dumbledore's request, whether you think that decision was justified or not."

Madam Pomfrey said nothing in reply. Her expression was inscrutable but not forbidding, which gave Maura the courage to continue.

"This ward is your responsibility, I realize that, and I don't want to take over. I'm here to assist you. I just..." She held out her hands in appeal. "...I hope we can find a way to overcome our differences and work together."

Maura was prepared to defend herself further if necessary and steeled herself for the matron's response, but Madam's Pomfrey's gaze was focused on Maura's choice of attire, her brows knitted together quizzically.

"You're not wearing your Healer's robes?" she asked finally.

"I couldn't change out of them fast enough," Maura admitted after a moment, surprised at the turn the conversation had taken. "Is this inappropriate, do you think?" She lifted the edges of her blue robes and then realized her farm boots with their frayed laces and worn uppers were visible and quickly let the edges of her robe drop back down.

Madam Pomfrey's face was suddenly suffused with the first genuine smile Maura had seen all morning. "I think it's perfect," she said warmly, and the atmosphere in the room seemed to thaw a few degrees. She set Maura's stool back on its legs and dusted off the seat. "We just have time for a cuppa before the meeting...sit down and I'll make some."

Taking her seat again, Maura was inordinately pleased to see that Madam Pomfrey prepared tea the Muggle way, just as Maura was accustomed to; she had never gotten used to the taste of tea prepared with magic. As she watched her bustle around the office, Maura realized this how she remembered Madam Pomfrey: quick and competent and self-assured in everything she did.

When the tea was finished, Maura accepted the cup gratefully, curling her hands around the warmth of the porcelain and inhaling the fragrant steam of the darjeeling.

"Now," Madam Pomfrey said, settling herself at her own desk. "Before we get too caught up in our day, let's clear the air a bit."

Maura nodded. She had always thought it best to handle problems as they arose, and Madam Pomfrey seemed to understand this as well. Perhaps they'd be able to work together after all.

"I'm going to assume you overheard the conversation between Professor Snape and myself. I'm sorry if it led you to believe you weren't welcome."

Maura started slightly at the sound of his name, swiping impatiently at the front of her robes where she had slopped her tea. She was filled with the same sense of familiarity and the same conflicting emotions of excitement and dread as she had felt days before, in Healer McKeeven's office.

"I won't make excuses for him," Madam Pomfrey continued. "He's the prickly sort...surely you remember that from school?"

Maura shook her head. She was certain she had never met the man, and if they had been at school together she had no memory of it.

"No matter. While you're here you shouldn't have to deal with him often, if at all, and it might be best if you avoid him completely."

Maura laughed. "Will that be possible?"

Madam Pomfrey's mouth twitched into a wry smile. "He barely acknowledges me, and I've known him since he was eleven."

"And as for myself," she continued, "I'll admit that at first the news of your transfer here was a rather unpleasant surprise, but I'm a stubborn old woman and rather set in my ways."

"Now that I do remember," Maura said. She set aside her teacup quickly and fumbled in the neck of her robes, withdrawing a crystal pendant fastened to a fine silver chain. It was glowing a soft yellow and she could still feel the heat where it had rested against her breastbone. If her tracer had activated it meant only one of two things; either the half-witted junior Healer they had placed in charge of the paediatric ward was in over her head already, or there was an update on Katie Bell's condition.

As the pendant twirled slowly in her fingers, Maura tapped her wand against it and studied the face of the crystal, frowning in concentration as words began to appear there and fade just as quickly.

"Has something happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked, leaving her desk and coming around to stand behind Maura's, peering over her shoulder at the tracer still dangling from Maura's hand.

Maura shook her head. "Just a routine update on Katie Bell."

"How is she?" Madam Pomfrey asked quietly.

"No change, really, though that's to be expected." Maura tapped her wand on the crystal once more and the yellow faded and disappeared. "It's still early days, though she's responding well to supportive care. Thank goodness you knew the appropriate countercurse or her situation would be much more grave."

"Katie was very fortunate in many ways," the matron agreed, "though I had little to do with the initial treatment she received." Before Maura could ask what she meant, Madam Pomfrey had leaned forward to study the pendant.

"May I look at that more closely?" she asked.

Maura pulled the chain over her head and passed the tracer to her.

Poppy turned the crystal in her hand. "It feels warm," she said, glancing at Maura. "Is that a function of the tracer charm?"

Maura nodded. "Even when the tracer isn't visible, we can still tell when it's been activated."

"And how exactly does it work?"

"It uses a modified Vestigium charm...just a paging system, really. Each floor of the hospital is assigned a specific color and the tracers change color based on the location where assistance is needed. It can also receive and transmit specific information if necessary, which is how I get hourly updates on Katie."

Poppy gently replaced the tracer around Maura's neck, her forehead creased in thought. "It would be wonderful to have a similar system here at Hogwarts," she said. "Think how quickly we could respond to situations if all the staff members had these."

"It would work well," Maura agreed, tucking the tracer back into her robes. "And I don't know why it couldn't be adapted for use within the castle."

"We can bring it up at the staff meeting," Poppy said. "Speaking of which, it's nearly time to go. Shall we?"

Maura drained the last of her tea, hoping to ease some of the jittery feeling beginning to bubble up in her stomach.

Poppy smoothed the front of Maura's robes thoughtfully, studying her with a kind smile, her head on one side. "Nervous?" she asked.

"I am a bit."

"Well, don't be. You're going to fit in just fine, Madam Riley."

And with this, Maura smiled. Madam Riley. She liked the sound of it.


	3. Chapter 3

_If you're one of the few readers who has been awaiting an update, I apologize for the long delay between chapters. Many of the later chapters are now completed or nearly so, and updates will follow much more quickly. I do appreciate anyone who has taken the time to read this story; OFC is a hard sell, but I'm still determined to tell Maura's story. I am especially grateful for anyone who has left a review; nothing else is quite so motivating._

_As before, I do not own these wonderful characters._

* * *

"How are the supplies holding out?" Maura asked, standing in the doorway of the dispensary. When Maura had left the hospital wing a few hours earlier, Poppy had been preparing to take inventory and here she was still at it, barely sparing Maura a glance as she balanced on a footstool, pulling a wooden container down from the shelves lining the walls. Maura had learned quickly that Poppy wasn't one to use magic when physical activity would suffice, preferring to save it for when it was absolutely necessary. She walked over and took the box from Poppy, placing it carefully on a nearby table before extending a hand to help her descend from the footstool.

"We've enough to see us through, I believe," Poppy said as she stepped down. She pulled a sheet of parchment towards her and began making a few notations as she began checked the contents of the box. "You've finished your rounds already?" she asked, without looking up.

"The pace is starting to slow a bit." Maura said, sliding the bag from her shoulder and hefting it up to the counter top. Since her return to Hogwarts she had taken to carrying the medical satchel she had used as an apprentice Healer. She had seldom been without it then, running as she did from ward to ward, and it was proving equally useful now. The brown leather was worn smooth and shiny in places, but it felt familiar and comforting resting against her hip as she walked on her daily rounds of the castle.

"Haven't had an easy start to your first week, have you?" Poppy asked ruefully, rolling up the parchment and adding it to a growing pile.

Maura laughed and shook her head. On her very first night at Hogwarts she had been awakened, not by her usual nightmares, but by an urgent summons from Professor Flitwick concerning an ill student. Although the first-year Ravenclaw was suffering from nothing more serious than a mild influenza, the illness had spread quickly through the student body, owing in part to the relentlessly chilly and damp weather that had kept everyone confined to the castle. The following days had passed in a blur of activity but Maura had been grateful for the distraction of hard work and for the easy camaraderie that had developed between herself and Madam Pomfrey during the crisis.

Maura removed the dispensary box from her bag and popped the lid open. She had nearly exhausted her supply of healing potions and carefully removed the empty containers for washing. She laid them aside and crouched to rummage in a cabinet.

"Do we have any more of the one-dose phials of Pepperup, do you know?" she asked, pulling out a nearly-empty container and scrutinizing it before pushing it back into place. "Poppy...?"

Receiving no answer, Maura turned quickly to see Poppy balancing on the footstool again. She had apparently stepped up to retrieve another box, but she was wobbling and before Maura could reach her, she nearly fell, the box slipping from her hands and crashing to the floor. Poppy stumbled as she stepped down and caught herself on the edge of the counter.

"My goodness," Maura exclaimed, rushing to her and helping her to a nearby stool. "Is there anything wrong?"

"I'm fine," Poppy said, but to Maura, it was said too quickly and defensively for it to be a truthful statement.

She unsheathed her diagnostic wand and leveled it at Poppy, tracing a pattern that was now so familiar she could do it without thinking, having performed it so many times in the past week. She ended the reading with an upward flick of her wand and crossed her arms while she studied Poppy, who was refusing to make eye contact.

"I thought you've been looking a bit peaky lately. Have you had any Pepperup?"

"I'll take some later, Maura. Stop fussing."

"You'll take some now," she said firmly, popping the cork from the mouth of a small tube and holding it out to her. Poppy eyed the phial with distaste, but downed the potion quickly, screwing her eyes shut and shuddering as she swallowed.

"That is absolutely vile," she complained.

"Now you know how the students feel," Maura said, scooping shattered glass from the floor and directing it toward the bin. "Go on through to the office and rest a bit. I'll clean up in here."

Poppy was sitting comfortably by a roaring fire when Maura entered their office a few minutes later, her favorite chair pulled up on the hearth rug. Although it was still early afternoon, the patch of sky she could see through the office window was grey and threatening, casting a pall over the room. Maura took her seat at her writing desk and toed off her boots, flexing her arches and sighing at the sensation of the plush rug under her tired feet.

With the inventory completed, all the remained was updating medical scrolls, which wouldn't take more than a few hours. Working on charts was a more pleasurable prospect here than it had been at St. Mungo's, both for the atmosphere and the company. Maura had always disliked the cavernous records rooms at St. Mungo's with Healers droning away and the dictation quills skittering across the sheets. Both she and Poppy favored the same approach: completing charts by hand in a quiet office. It took longer, but Maura had never been able to gather her thoughts without the physical act of putting quill to parchment; at least here she wasn't dismissed as being old-fashioned for her preference.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the tick of rain against the window and an occasional pop as a log settled in the grate. The small room was comfortably warm and cozy and despite the quiet atmosphere, or perhaps because of it, Maura was unable to focus completely on her notes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked when Poppy sighed and rose from her chair.

Poppy looked over at Maura, smiling faintly as she settled herself at her own desk. "A bit tired...as I'm sure you are."

But Maura wasn't at all tired; as a matter of fact, she was feeling better than she had for quite some time. At St. Mungo's she had been stuck in the pediatric ward with only occasional forays to other floors. Seldom did she leave the building during her shift and for a girl who had grown up on a farm and was accustomed to freedom of movement, being restricted to the same airless halls and wards day after day had been suffocating. Here she was free to come and go on her daily rounds of the castle with no one looking over her shoulder. It was definitely agreeing with her.

Poppy, on the other hand, was still looking pale and drawn despite her recent dose of Pepperup. As Maura watched, she sent a finished batch of scrolls to the cabinet with a quick flick of her wand. Maura raised an eyebrow at this unusual display, but took it as further proof of how poorly she must be feeling at the moment.

"Why don't I attend the feast tonight and you can turn in early?" Maura suggested.

Poppy brightened at the idea, but then sagged slightly. "You have a staff briefing first thing tomorrow morning," she reminded her. "If anyone should have an early night, you should."

"I don't mind, really. Unless you'd like to go instead?"

Poppy scoffed. "No, thank you. I'll be fine right here with a sandwich and a cup of tea."

Maura felt a bit wistful at this, already beginning to regret her impulsive offer, but she hoped the noise and bustle in the hall would serve as a distraction from what was awaiting her the next morning.

* * *

Maura hesitated at the top of the staircase leading to the entrance hall as she heard a rowdy group of students approaching from behind. They hurtled by, parting around her and then flowing back together as they passed. Some of the older students thumped her on the back in a friendly manner on their way past and some of the younger students smiled shyly. A few looked back at her, raising their eyebrows and whispering amongst themselves as they took in her appearance. Protocol demanded that she wear her traditional robes to the feasts, but it was the first time many of the students had seen her in anything other than her plain work robes and their surprise was evident..

When the staircase cleared, Maura began to make her way down slowly, finding she was in no hurry to arrive at her destination. She had never enjoyed the holiday feasts, even as a student. The commotion in the Great Hall had always caused her to lose her appetite and even now she felt the same anticipatory churning in her gut as her steps carried her closer and closer to the hall.

Maura suddenly became aware of an imposing figure clad entirely in black standing near the bottom of the staircase and she realized with a sinking feeling it was the one person she had hoped to avoid encountering tonight. Professor Snape was clearly ill at ease, his discomfort obvious in his bearing, even from the back. From her position on the stairs, Maura could see a pretty young witch facing him. The woman barely came up to his chest but her posture was defiant and she had all the appearance of a spirited little terrier taking on a much larger cur.

"...and I'll say it again, you don't look well," Maura could hear her saying as she approached. "As a matter of fact, you look exhausted."

"Being forced to endure your endless nattering would fatigue anyone."

"Don't try and change the subject, Severus," she said, blocking him as he tried to edge his way past her.

"Why are you intent on making a nuisance of yourself?" Despite the weariness evident in his voice, his tone was dangerous, but she didn't back down.

"Because you're being so bloody stubborn, that's why," she countered, jabbing a finger towards his chest. "You nearly took a header coming up the stairs just now, don't think I didn't notice..."

Maura averted her eyes from what was obviously a spat, but as she tried to quickly walk past, Professor Snape made another attempt at escape and collided with her, causing her to stagger sideways at the unexpected contact. He was built more solidly than he appeared, Maura realized, absently rubbing at her shoulder. He did not stop to acknowledge her, the irritated scowl on his face communicating his displeasure as he brushed by her.

"But...he ran into me," Maura said, still a bit dazed from the collision and the implication that it had been entirely her fault.

"Ah, don't mind him," said the young witch, coming to stand beside Maura. "I didn't think it possible, but he's been even more ill-tempered than usual lately."

Maura glanced over at her. She didn't appear a typical witch, dressed as she was in a brightly floral-patterned dress instead of teaching robes. She could have easily passed as a Muggle, but with her sharp features and close-cropped red hair she most reminded Maura of a mischievous pixie .

"I'm Charity Burbage, by the way," she said, extending a small, graceful hand to Maura. "We were introduced at the staff meeting."

"Of course," Maura said, briefly clasping the younger woman's hand. There had been so many introductions that day and so much information to take in that everything had quickly blurred together, but studying Charity's friendly, earnest face, the memory was beginning to return to her. "Muggle Studies is your subject, isn't it?"

"That's right," Charity said, falling into step with Maura as they entered the Great Hall. "And I've been meaning to ask..." The rest of her sentence was lost as Charity's eyes widened and she ducked to avoid a bat that had swooped low over their heads.. "God, I hate bats," she said with feeling, shuddering before turning her attention back to Maura. "Anyway, I could never seem to catch you at the Infirmary last week and if it's not too forward, I have a favor to ask of you."

The hall was decorated elaborately for the feast, but despite the attempts that had been made at creating a festive atmosphere, the overall mood in the room was subdued. The smell of heated pumpkin flesh, multiplied by hundreds of the blasted things floating overhead, was making her feel vaguely ill, as was the prospect of sitting through a meal at the Head Table.

As they walked along the Slytherin table, Maura thought she could hear a low but emphatic hissing following them as they passed. When she looked over, she noted with surprise that some of the students were wearing expressions of undisguised dislike. It seemed Charity had noticed as well, and her smile widened a bit.

"What was that all about?" Maura whispered when they were out of earshot.

"Oh, just a greeting for their favorite professor," she said airily. Before ascending the stairs to the staff tables, Charity turned, and with an expansive arm gesture, blew a kiss in the direction of the Slytherins, much to the subdued amusement of the nearby Ravenclaws. "Shall we sit together?" she asked. "I'm always relegated to the side table and could do with some company."

With a sense of relief, Maura ascended the stairs, positioned her bag over the back of her chair and sank gratefully into its soft depths. "You mentioned something about a favor?" Maura prompted gently as Charity finished her greetings to her other seat mates.

"Oh, yes!" Charity said, brightening visibly and turning back to her. "I know you're terribly busy, but I was hoping you'd be able to visit my class one day as a guest lecturer. It's a very popular subject, Muggle medical techniques as compared to magical, and you have experience with both, don't you?"

"Do I?" Maura asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Your father is a Muggle physician, isn't he?"

"Well, not exactly. He's a farm veterinarian...was a veterinarian, I should say. He's retired now."

"Even better," Charity said enthusiastically. "I don't know that I've ever covered veterinary medicine in any of my lessons."

Maura smiled in what she hoped was a polite but noncommittal manner, and as she started to reply she was interrupted by the sharp ringing tones of a knife against a goblet as Professor McGonagall signaled for quiet. Maura listened distractedly as the headmaster made his brief opening remarks. She thought she had quite enough to do already without any added responsibilities, but Charity seemed the friendly sort and Maura was willing to consider her request.

"Damn," Charity said, propping her chin in her hand while she studied the offerings that had appeared on the plates in front of them. "I wish they'd remember that not all of us are dyspeptic old women." She blew out a disgusted sigh. "What I wouldn't give for a hamburger." She lifted her goblet, swirling the dark liquid within. "The wine is decent, at least, " she said, before taking a deep swallow.

Maura toyed with her own food, finding she had little appetite. There was something niggling at her. She thought back to her introduction at the staff meeting and to her recollection, admittedly faulty at best, no mention had been made either of her personal history or her family. She blurted out the first question that came to her mind.

"Charity, how did you know about my father?"

"Don't look so surprised," Charity said, a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. "You'll find there's little that remains a secret at Hogwarts for long."

"Really?" Maura tried to assume a nonchalant tone, but felt an sudden uncomfortable clenching in her stomach. There was much about her past that she preferred remain unknown.

Charity nodded. "The staff are notorious gossips; more so than the students. It's shocking."

Maura thought Charity's expression suggested amusement rather than shock, and gave her a quick sideways glance, alert for any sign that would indicate the young woman knew more than she was letting on, but she was either unaware of or unconcerned with Maura's unease. She had already moved on from their previous topic, talking instead about the cunning little shop where she had found her dress, then professing her fondness for Muggle poetry. Maura didn't have much of a chance to respond, but she didn't mind. She was beginning to relax, finding the barrage of words reminiscent of Gwen and oddly distracting and soothing rather than annoying. Although she tried, Maura was unable to cover a huge yawn as she sat and listened.

"Oh, god," Charity said, looking chagrined. "I'm boring you, aren't I? It's because I talk too much, I know I do. It drives everyone else mad. But I can't tell you how pleasant it is to have someone reasonably close to my own age to talk with. At least," she added, with a pointed look towards the main table, "someone close to my age who can tolerate my presence for more than five minutes."

Maura followed her gaze to where Professor Snape was seated, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed slightly, curled into himself as if he were utterly exhausted. She felt a stir of sympathy for him, but squelched it quickly. Charity continued to watch him with what could only be described as a fond expression on her face. Maura couldn't quite picture this cheerful, animated woman paired with such a dour man, but she remembered she was still finding her way at Hogwarts and for all she knew they were a couple, albeit a discreet couple, and she tried broaching the subject in a tactful manner.

"How long have the two of you been...uh...involved?"

Charity whirled her head back quickly towards Maura, her face registering utter shock. "Involved?" she spluttered. "You mean me...and Professor Snape?"

Maura froze for a moment, certain she had offended her, and then to her great relief, Charity began to laugh. She had a hearty laugh for such a petite girl and as she slammed the flat of her hand against the table in merriment, it earned her a disapproving look from Professor McGonagall, a benign smile from the headmaster and nothing more than a cursory glance from Snape.

"I'm sorry," Maura said as Charity struggled to regain some composure. "When I overheard the two of you quarreling earlier, I just assumed..." she trailed off, feeling utterly foolish.

Charity shook her head as she retrieved her napkin, using it to dab at her eyes. "Besides the fact that I think I give the poor man migraines, it's hard for me to consider him as anyone other than a former professor." She gave Maura a bright, curious look. "Any particular reason you're asking?"

Maura shrugged. She didn't care for the expression on Charity's face and searched her mind for another subject to discuss, but she was not to be dissuaded.

"The two of you must be close in age," Charity continued, studying Maura appraisingly. "Do you know each other?"

Maura considered her words carefully, keeping the warning about gossip in mind before she replied.

"We met once," she finally admitted. "When we were students, but I don't think he remembers me."

Considering the circumstances of their first meeting all those many years ago, Maura found herself hoping he didn't remember. It was still embarrassing to realize the stir of emotions she had felt upon hearing his name was nothing more than the remnants of a silly schoolgirl crush when she had been too young to know better.

"I wouldn't know about that," Charity said. "He's trying to be discreet about it, but he's been watching you all evening." Maura hadn't noticed, but then again, she had been studiously avoiding looking in his direction. Charity raised her hand and wiggled her fingers at him and Maura would have sworn she even winked at him in a very cheeky manner.

Although he did not look towards them again, the scowl on his face deepened and Charity laughed softly. "Professor Snape's not a bad sort, really," she said. "A trifle irascible, but I feel safer when I know he's around. Somehow I've always gotten the sense that he's protecting us."

Maura made a slight noise of disbelief, though Charity didn't seem to hear. Of all the many emotions she felt in his presence, safe and protected didn't even begin to make the list.

"I try to look out for him as well, but he'll have none of it," Charity continued. "I mean, just look at him tonight...he's obviously not feeling well, but won't admit it to anyone. I was nearly taken off at the knees for suggesting as much earlier."

Maura had to admit, after studying him more closely than she had dared all evening, that he did appear unwell. She was caught off guard when a sudden, pained expression crossed his face and he turned away from the table, burying his face in the crook of his arm to muffle a sneeze.

"You see?" Charity said, nodding knowingly. "He is ill, bless him. I knew it."

He lifted his head momentarily, blinking blearily, and then another sneeze overtook him. Everything about the man was tightly controlled, and no one had seemed to take the least notice; either that, or they were politely ignoring him. Professor Flitwick was the only one to make a gesture of acknowledgment, discreetly passing him a handkerchief under the table. Professor Snape accepted it, one eyebrow raising incredulously as he studied the miniscule square of material.

Maura felt, rather than saw, Charity begin to shake with amusement beside her. She pressed a fist to her mouth and turned towards Maura, trying to suppress her laughter. "Did you see his face?" she spluttered. "Oh, dear. That tiny scrap of cloth for his great nose..."

Her amusement was infectious, and Maura was on the verge of laughing herself but the malevolent glare Professor Snape turned on them both was enough to quell her mirth.

"Poor man. All he needs is some rest..." Charity said, refilling both of their glasses. "..and a decent shag, I daresay."

Maura felt her face turn hot at her confident pronouncement. To cover her embarrassment, Maura took a quick drink of wine, but when his eyes suddenly locked with hers over the rim of her glass, her throat constricted and she choked slightly. She set her glass down clumsily, some of the liquid slopping over the edge.

"So," Maura said, aware that her voice sounded unnaturally high. "When were you thinking of having me visit your classroom?"

Charity considered it, her forehead creasing in concentration. "Middle of next month perhaps? If it fits into your schedule, of course. I can give you a better idea later in the term."

"Yes, that's fine," Maura said distractedly, her attention once again focused on Professor Snape. He was gripping the arms of his chair tightly, his fingers digging into the wood. A brief spasm of pain crossed his face but then he sagged slightly as the discomfort seemed to ease, a deep shudder running through his frame. As Maura continued to watch, he picked up his glass, which trembled noticeably in his hand as he brought it to his mouth. She could sense his attention beginning to turn towards her and she quickly shifted her gaze to the Enchanted Ceiling, where grey clouds were beginning to roil across the surface.

When Maura chanced a look back in his direction, his seat was empty and as she tried to discreetly determine where he had gone, she saw him striding along the length of the table where they were seated. Charity leaned back in her seat as he approached them, trying to get his attention, but he averted his eyes and edged away, his indignation obvious in the set of his shoulders and the stiff manner in which he was carrying himself. Maura held her breath, every nerve ending practically buzzing as he passed behind her.

Maura turned her head to follow Professor Snape's progress from the hall and nearly started from her seat in alarm when he faltered at the door, supporting himself with one arm against the door frame as he was seemingly overcome by another spasm of pain.

"Is he okay?" Charity asked quietly, her eyes going to where he was still standing with his head bowed.

Maura didn't know and couldn't tell from here, but she determined to find out whether he liked it or not.

"It was lovely chatting with you, Charity," she said, hastily rising to her feet and slinging her bag over her shoulder, "but I have an early-morning meeting tomorrow and I'm going to turn in early."

Charity seemed on the verge of speech but thought better of it. As Maura turned to leave, she caught her by the sleeve, her expression uncharacteristically grave. "You'll let me know if there's anything I can do?"

Maura nodded and raised a hand in farewell as she quickly made her way down the steps, stumbling and nearly falling in her haste to catch up to him.


	4. Chapter 4

Maura stood in the cavernous space of the entrance hall, holding her breath, her senses alert for Professor Snape's presence. She was already reconsidering her impulsive decision to follow him. He had more than likely returned to his quarters for the evening and even if by chance she did find him, what would she say to him? Her time could be better spent preparing for the next day, not trailing after a person who obviously wanted to be left alone.

She walked farther into the hall and as the sounds of mingled laughter and conversation receded, a sudden, weary oath caught her attention. Maura glanced towards her left and caught a glimpse of the edge of Professor Snape's black robes. It didn't appear he had noticed her and she approached as near to him as she dared, trying to walk soundlessly, grateful that she was wearing her soft-soled flats and not her boots.

He was standing at the entrance of a dimly-lit corridor with his head bowed, supporting himself against the wall with one hand, his back turned toward her. He hadn't even been able to walk across the expanse of the entrance hall without requiring a rest, and Maura reached around to unsheathe her diagnostic wand, concern and curiosity overriding her professional ethics. She began to trace a diagnostic pattern in the air, but just as the information began to appear, he made a sudden movement and she shrank back. When she dared look over again, he had disappeared into the corridor. After only a moment's hesitation, she followed.

Her path was illuminated with only a few feebly flickering torches, and she paused outside the faint fall of light, listening intently to his slow, measured footsteps echoing directly ahead of her. As long as he was moving away from her, she was in no danger of being discovered and could try to obtain another reading. She traced the same pattern as before,watching the text and numbers beginning to flow outward from the tip of her wand.

She frowned, flicking her wand to the right to end the reading. She wasn't quite close enough to get an accurate diagnosis, but the elevated temperature and upper respiratory symptoms certainly suggested that he had succumbed to the same flu that had swept through the castle lately. She was concentrating intently as she took another reading, unaware that the footsteps had stopped abruptly until Professor Snape appeared in front of her, his face uplit in the flare of wand light.

Maura shrieked and fell backwards against the dank stone wall, clutching her chest with one hand, her breath coming in ragged gasps. When at last her heart slowed and she was able to speak again, she lowered her wand and fixed him with an indignant glare.

"What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

"I could ask the same of you," he said, his dark eyes malevolent as he shifted his attention to the diagnostic information still shimmering in the air between them. "Certainly you're aware you just violated one of the sacred tenets you swore to uphold as a Healer?" He considered her for a moment. "Or have you also abandoned those along with your formal title, _Madam_ Riley?"

Anger flared within Maura but her retort died on her lips as she studied his face. In the harsh light, the signs of encroaching illness were obvious and he wasn't one she cared to tangle with when he was feeling well, let alone when he was ill and in a foul mood. Perhaps aware of her scrutiny, he lowered his wand, his face becoming shadowed and unreadable once again.

"Well?" he said. "Have you nothing to say for yourself?"

Maura shook her head. She couldn't defend her actions. It was unconscionable what she had done, examining him without permission, but she was unable to stop herself. Something about the man still drew her in, exerted a pull almost beyond her ability to resist, just as it had all those years ago, but she certainly wasn't going to admit it to him.

"I'm sorry," Maura said, pushing herself away from the wall.

"You have no business here, Madam Riley. You should return to the feast before you're missed."

"I'd rather not," she said, surprising herself. "Not until I'm sure you're okay."

He pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, an exasperated sigh escaping him. Maura steeled herself for the verbal excoriation she was certain was to follow, but to her surprise, he spoke quietly.

"If that's why you followed me, you've wasted your time," he said. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with me."

"Forgive me for saying so, but the reading I just took indicates otherwise."

"The reading you took without my consent," he reminded her, managing to sound imperious even though he was sniffling slightly and his voice was growing hoarse from speech.

"Admittedly," she said. "And I do apologize, but it doesn't change the results."

He narrowed his eyes and then turned abruptly and stalked down the corridor, his indignation obvious to Maura, even from the back.

"You are ill, whether you care to admit it or not," she said, dogging his steps as he continued walking without acknowledging her.

Maura raised her voice to call after him as he entered a chamber at the end of the corridor. "You're a stubborn one, aren't you? It's only the flu..." He closed the door resoundingly in her face before she could complete her sentence.

Maura stood flabbergasted for a moment and then stepped closer to the door, hesitating with her hand on the latch. The rational side of her mind was telling her to leave him alone; she would only be making an awkward situation worse by continuing to force the issue. She knew she had already crossed a line by following him and obtaining an unauthorized reading, but he also seemed to be the stoic type, completely in denial; the type who would refuse to seek care until it was too late. A dose of Pepperup and a good night's sleep would likely put him to rights, but she suspected he would have to be coerced before he would agree to either.

She wrenched the door open, staring into the dark, dank room. There was no fire in the grate, and the faint light spilling in from the corridor only allowed her to make out vague shapes in the gloom. As her eyes adjusted, Maura finally spotted him sitting on a bench, his arms resting on his legs, hands clasped loosely, head bowed and nearly touching his knees, his posture suggesting he was utterly worn down. As she entered, he turned his head towards her and straightened, crossing his arms and tightening his cloak about himself, not quite able to hide the shudder that shook him suddenly.

"You again?" he asked, his voice flat. "Surely you have other matters with which to concern yourself?"

He stood abruptly and Maura suddenly lost her nerve. Was he going to throw her out?

"Any number of horrors could befall the castle without a Healer present to thwart the attacker," he said in a low, dangerous tone as he closed the distance between them. "And that is why you're here, isn't it, Madam Riley?"

And although Maura recognized this tactic, knew it was the the attempt of an intensely private and proud individual to deflect attention from himself with a personal attack, hoping to anger her enough so that she would leave him in peace, his eyes, oddly familiar and unsettling, seemed to bore into hers and she felt her knees turn watery. She edged away from the door, circling away from him, trying to remain on the opposite side of the long, narrow table dividing the room.

"I don't know why I'm here," she said, the truth pulled from her almost against her will. Panic begin to rise up in her chest. If it were happening again, there was nothing she could do to prevent it. She had followed him willingly down a deserted corridor into a seldom-used staff room and no one would think to look for her here until it was much too late.

Her mind was screaming at her to run, to seek escape somehow, and she took an involuntary step backwards, falling heavily against the table. She became entangled in one of the chairs and collapsed into a heap.

She squeezed her eyes shut, gathering her courage, determined to do what she hadn't been able to last time...resist; fight back while standing on her feet, not cowering on the floor. She scrabbled for her wand, freeing it from where it was trapped underneath her leg, but as her fingers closed over it and she steeled herself to look up at him, she was surprised to see Professor Snape at eye level with her.

"Have you hurt yourself?" he asked. His expression was impatient, but his voice was soft with an undercurrent of genuine concern.

"N-no, I don't think so," she said.

He held out a hand to her and Maura scrambled ungracefully to her feet, trying to avoid looking at him, embarrassed by her overreaction. He hadn't posed a threat to her and there had been no malicious intent behind his harsh words. As Maura opened her mouth to apologize, he wavered suddenly and was forced to grab her by the arms to steady himself. His head was lowered near hers and she could feel the heat emanating from him, could see the pallor of his face and the dark shadows under his eyes. Maura was back on familiar territory now, her previous fear gone, replaced by concern for him, and she took him by the arm.

"You need to sit down," she said firmly, using the same persuasive tone that had served her so well with recalcitrant patients at St. Mungo's. He allowed himself to be guided to a chair near the fireplace and sank heavily into it, folding forward and dropping his head into his hands. Maura felt completely drained herself. The initial rush of adrenaline had passed, leaving her weak and shaky. She pointed her wand toward the grate but found she needed both hands to steady her grip before she could set the logs alight.

"Professor Snape?" she asked hesitantly, noting that he hadn't moved for several minutes.

"Haven't you left yet?" came the tired reply.

"I have Pepperup with me," she said. "If you'd like any."

He glanced up at this and gave her an incredulous look before dropping his head again. Maura watched as a shudder ran through him and she was seized with a sudden and irrational desire to tuck him into a warm bed.

"Some tea might take the chill off," she offered.

When he said nothing, she blew out an exasperated sigh.

"Isn't there anything at all I can do for you?" she asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as helpless as she felt.

"Yes. You can go away."

He was huddled at the edge of the chair and despite the warmth of the fire, was now shivering outright. For all his air of invulnerability, at the moment he looked as miserable and bereft as any of the first-years she had cared for over the past week. Before she even realized what she was doing, she extended her hand and brushed back a strand of hair that was straggling across his face.

He glared at her and she froze, her hand still outstretched. _Right. Emphatically not a suffering little first-year._

"Madam Riley?"

They both turned, startled by the sudden voice coming from the doorway.

"I'm not interrupting anything, I trust?"

Dumbledore had entered the room and was staring at the two of them with eyebrows raised. Maura was acutely aware of how the scene must appear to him and she jerked her hand away, her face burning with embarrassment.

"Not at all, Headmaster," she said, trying for a tone of casual indifference, but falling short.

"I must admit," Dumbledore said, walking towards them slowly, his hands clasped behind his back. "I'm quite surprised to see you here. Has someone taken ill?"

Maura glanced at Professor Snape and he shook his head slightly. She heeded the silent appeal that she say nothing and forced an unconcerned smile before she turned back to the Headmaster.

"No sir," she said. "I was, uh, relaying a message." It sounded weak and unconvincing even to her own ears but Dumbledore let it pass unchallenged.

"Then would you please excuse us? Professor Snape and I have some rather urgent business to discuss. I'm afraid it can't wait."

"Yes, of course," Maura said, stooping to retrieve her bag from where it had fallen earlier. Professor Snape was watching her impassively from his chair and she smiled at him in an apologetic manner. She hoped for his sake their meeting would be a brief one; his need for rest was so obvious to her it was nearly palpable.

Dumbledore smiled kindly at her as she passed, but stopped her with a gentle touch on her shoulder. She turned to him and he murmured, "Would you be so kind as to ask Madam Pomfrey to meet me in my office an hour from now?" Maura nodded her assent and hurried out, eager to leave the humiliating encounter behind her.

When she reached the entrance hall again, she sank down onto a bench in a secluded alcove near the stairs leading to the dungeons. She pressed her head against the bracingly cold stone wall, cringing as she took stock of her evening's activities. In the span of less than thirty minutes, she had accosted Professor Snape in the staff room, annoyed him thoroughly, fallen on her arse in front of him and taken unwanted liberties with his hair.

Maura covered her face with her hands, unsure if the thought was going to provoke laughter or tears, but laughter won out and as much as she tried to control it, she couldn't seem to stop giggling, even when a particularly unladylike snort escaped her. It seemed all the pent-up stress from the last few weeks was bubbling out and she knew if she didn't get control of herself soon, she would start weeping, could feel it close to the surface, and she took a deep breath to steady herself, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her robes.

She would wait, that's all. She would wait until they finished talking, take the Headmaster aside and explain what had happened. Then she would attempt to apologize to Professor Snape and hope he didn't hex her into the next week for what she had done, for the difficult and embarrassing position she had put him in. It was her own fault, she knew. He was a grown man now, and if they had little in common during their school years, they had even less in common now. It was time to leave the past where it belonged.

The few stragglers leaving the feast took no notice of Maura as she sat waiting. When at last the tumult cleared and the hall was empty and silent again, she heard footsteps approaching and the echo of murmured conversation. Maura leaped to her feet. She hadn't considered the possibility that they would leave the chamber together and she had absolutely no desire to face the both of them at the same time. After a moment's hesitation, she descended a few steps on the nearby staircase, realizing her error almost at once. Professor Snape's private quarters were still in the dungeons and in a few moments he would be using those very stairs to return to his room. She would have no choice but to make her way back to the Infirmary through the dank and forbidding maze of corridors below, a prospect that made Maura feel claustrophobic.

But instead of parting near the staircase, the pair continued walking towards the main doors, stopping near the suits of armor flanking the entrance. Maura stopped in her descent, surprised to see that Professor Snape was now wearing a heavy traveling cloak over his robes.

With his left hand, Dumbledore reached out and grasped the younger man's shoulder tightly.

"Severus, are you certain you have to leave tonight?"

"You know I have no choice." His voice sounded weary but resigned.

"Then at least allow me to accompany you to the gates."

"No," he said with finality. "You shouldn't be out in this weather...not in your condition."

"Nor should you, dear boy."

He pulled up the hood of his traveling cloak and stood silently for a moment until a thought seemed to strike him.

"You have a replacement for my lessons tomorrow if necessary?"

"Yes."

"And someone will look in on my Slytherins while I'm gone?"

"Of course. Please don't concern yourself with these trifling details, Severus. Concentrate on returning safely to us."

"Goodnight Headmaster," he said, stepping outside.

"You'll see Poppy when you return?" Dumbledore called after him.

Maura moved to the top of the steps, all of her protective instincts coming to the fore, trying to understand what she had just heard. What was the Headmaster thinking, sending him out, tonight of all nights, when he obviously wasn't well? What could possibly be so urgent?

As if he had read her mind, Dumbledore turned towards Maura. His expression as he looked at her was neither angry nor accusing, but sorrowful, and without quite knowing why, Maura made her way to stand beside him at the entrance doors.

"Can't someone else go with him?" she asked. "Can I?"

"You're needed here," Dumbledore said mildly as they stood shoulder to shoulder.

"You do know he's ill?" she said, unable to keep an accusatory tone from her voice.

"Professor Snape doesn't leave tonight at my request," he said. "And it is fortunate he will be in such excellent hands when he returns."

She remembered then what Dumbledore had said as he left. _Concentrate on returning safely to us._

"Headmaster?" she asked hesitantly, mindful that she was likely prying into matters that weren't her affair. "Is Professor Snape in danger?"

Dumbledore frowned slightly and did not answer her question. "You won't forget to give Poppy my message?"

Maura nodded. Even as the Headmaster turned to leave, she couldn't take her eyes from the solitary figure slowly trudging from the castle. She stood watching until she could no longer see him through the driving rain.


End file.
